"My eyes, since this afternoon, see you constantly where you are not—how could they fail to see you where you are?"
"Then, as Your Grace has seen me . . ." she added with timid nervousness, seeing that he now stood between her and the steps, "will you allow me to go up again?"
"No."
"I entreat!" she pleaded.
"Impossible."
"Her Grace of Lincoln will be looking for me."
"Then stay here with me until she does."
"What to do?" she queried innocently.
"To make me happy."
"Happy?" she laughed merrily. "Ho! ho! ho! How can I, a humble waiting-maid, manage to make His Grace of Wessex happy?"